Maybe it's not "too easy for the Cavaliers this post-season". Maybe they are just that good. LeBron denies a basket, lopes down the court and stuffs it in for 2. Delonte West, faster than a speeding bullet and stuffs it.
I wrote that when Dick Stockton said it, about 2 minutes into the first quarter of the 4th game of the Eastern Conference semi-finals series. It was a "reminder post" - just there so that I'd remember to use it. I'd fix it up later.
Then I went back to watch the game. And the Cavaliers were suddenly behind. And LeBron couldn't make a lay-up. And the Hawks were stealing the ball. And I knew that it was my fault. I'd jinxed it by writing it down.
Anyone who's ever "had a team" knows what I'm talking about. Maybe you have your lucky shirt. Wearing that Frank Gore jersey focuses your energy, and Frank feels it. You know he does. Perhaps it's a towel you wring and un-wring and wring again during every Rangers' possession. They know you're watching. While you're in your special chair, with total control of the remote, you are a vital piece of the puzzle. Forget the 6th man; the crowd in the old Chicago Stadium may have been loud, but Michael knew you were watching and re-watching and noticing every subtley. You knew that he needed you as much as you needed him.
You need to control the environment when you have a team. I was banished from the family room one Xmas season because the 9'ers had been winning until I came into the room. It was too important. They had to win. If I wanted something from the kitchen I could holler and they would bring it to me, but my presence was not welcomed. And I didn't complain. I understood.
I understood how the Blue Demons would win every game all season long and then lose to Notre Dame on my birthday and then lose in the second round of the tournament. Three years in a row, they were out after the first weekend. And it was my fault. I'd bragged on them to everyone, and the sports gods were listening.
I learned my lesson and have tried really really hard to restrain myself as, year after year, the Cubbies come closer and closer to almost maybe could it really be oh yes oh yes .........oh, well. The Little Cuter got caught up in the excitement when she moved to Lincoln Park, and she rebuffed my efforts to warn her. "Mom, they have pitching/young talent/karma........." whatever she said I'd said before and been crushed by before. Because of hubris.
So, I stopped writing and we had dinner and the Cav's coasted to a win and that's all I'm going to say on the subject. No gloating. No outrageous comparisons to MJ. Nothing. Just quiet contemplation. And glee. Lots and lots of glee.
"What, do you want to tempt the wrath of the...whatever, from high atop the thing?" West Wing